myself carried out on the rock. You know I like to rest there, in
the sunlight, under the olive-tree that stretches out its limbs over
the water. From that point you can look so far out over the sea.
There you can see where heaven and earth unite, and strange dreams
and wishes overcome over me there. The sea murmurs at my feet in
such wondrous, mysterious tones, that my heart warms and my breast
expands. The physician, too, had said that I should breathe the
fresh air of the cliffs very often, and I had been carried out, and
lay there at rest in sweet, solitary silence. I did not observe that
the sky was darkening, and a storm coming on. It also escaped the
notice of the two servants who had carried me out in the chair. Now
that the rain already began to fall in large drops, they became
alarmed, and both ran away rapidly to procure a covered palanquin,
as the physician had said I must be carefully guarded against taking
cold. They had hardly gone and left me alone when it began to rain
harder, and I felt the large drops slowly trickling down upon me
through the leaves of the olive-tree. The rain was very cold. The
storm raged and tore the protecting foliage of the tree apart.
Suddenly I heard footsteps. It was Mohammed Ali. He was rapidly
passing by, but when he saw me lying there under the tree, alone, he
came up to me, and understood the situation at a glance. In spite of
my resistance, he spread his body over me, and protected me from the
rain and discomfort.

"When the servants arrived with the palanquin I had remained
perfectly dry, while Mohammed was wet to the skin. I begged him to
come with me. I begged him to accept a gift. He refused both, and
cried, laughing, as he ran away to escape my further thanks: 'For me
it was only a welcome bath! You it would have hurt, Osman.'"